


The Outsider

by AiluruStyani



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dragons, Irish Language, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements, Sylvari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AiluruStyani/pseuds/AiluruStyani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry about the long wait everyone! Ugh, I've only got myself to blame... Nevertheless, enjoy it! Sorry about any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, I only have myself to check it over...</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Its walls are ancient, imbued with power

Its people are content, joyous and protected

They rely on the dome and each person being connected

Cosaint is always in its finest hour.

Its a magical place, with great treasures to plunder,

But the guardian is formidable, a master of fighting,

No thieves have passed his protections and his magic, truly frightening,

All who tried were turned back or beaten, some were even torn asunder

 

You read the words curiously as you eat your breakfast of blackberry jam on toasted sourbread. After finishing you hand the plate to the stout innkeeper at the bar,

“What's that thing about?” pointing at the tapestry.

“It's aboot a nearboi town…” he answers, looking at you strangely, probably about your foreign accent.

“So how could I get there?” You ask, grinning wildly and puffing out your chest.

“Well if ya continue on the Aistrigh it'll be aboot half a day's roid, and then ya have ta go onto a moch smaller, less traveled path that's probably overgron, and you follow that ‘till you get ta the wall. Now there’s been-”

“Thanks! I'll get going then!” Cutting him off and leaving a few gold coins on the counter you head out to the stables.

 

The Aistrigh is wide enough to fit three carriages comfortably. The stretch of stone bricks connects the two largest cities in the kingdom, the capital Ceirtlín, and the port city of Malartaigh. Farms line the road that follows the Diail River covering the small hills of the area with various crops or meadows for animals. The path that sprouts from the Aistrigh is small and rough, marked by an old sign that reads Cosaint, and points down the path. Your horse wouldn't be able to keep a very good speed on this path so you send it home after taking your things out of the saddlebags. The path is tiny, barely an animal trail winding through the thick forest. The air is cool on your face and smells deeply of pine, the sound of your shoes rustling the needles hang in the silent air. Birds don’t sing and squirrels don’t skitter or squeak, the forest is ancient and yet silent. You can see the edge of a field, though it looks far off from among the trees.

 

The field leading up to a large wall has thick soft grass and is littered with all sorts of wildflowers. The wall looks to be about twelve or so metres high and is made out of large stones, sealed together with mortar. The person sitting at its top has a leg dangling down, but doesn’t really seem to mind. His hand is up on his left shoulder, it looks like he’s stroking it, you move forward, with caution. The man on the wall looks down at you as you come closer, his eyes meet yours and they’re a verdant green with cat-like pupils. the green is intoxicating, compelling you to look deeper, sucking you in. You break your gaze and study his thin lips which are pressed into a straight line and show no emotion. He has pointed ears that stick out from tousled golden-blond hair.

 

His lean form is covered in armour, from neck to toe. Matte black scales weave together on his chest, framed with silver that clings around his legs and arms, meeting to form a symbol on his chest, the symbol resembles a dragon. On each shoulder the silver gathers to arc in from the edge of his shoulder to his collarbone, where it connects back to the armour. On his left side there was a clump of white hair and silver, black and grey scales.

“Have you completed your blatant ogling?” His voice is a pure mountain spring overflowing with fresh life and sharp coolness.

“Oh right… sorry.” you respond weakly looking down at the grass around your feet, he frowns and hops off the wall, landing in a crouch and standing. His tall stature forces you to look up to meet his eyes.

“Why are you here?” he asks you, staring into your eyes again.

“Uh because… um I had a dream that told me to find Cosaint…”  

You look on his upper thigh and see an array of at least thirty kunai, each inside its own holster. Two swords hang on the other side, the blades hidden in scabbards, the hilts were decorated with gold and laced with a black silk. He turns around to look out at the forest,

“So you want to get in?” he says over his shoulder, as a cloak of molten gold falls over his shoulders and conceals his back. It brushes your face as it extends to its full length. It felt like the softest, lightest silk you've ever felt. He pulled the hood over his head as the dark lump fell off his shoulder and dashed into his hood, much smaller than it had been.

“I, uh, yes…. I do.” you answer, scratching your head, feeling a bit dull in your clothes, next to his majestic beauty.

“Why should I let you?” he turns to look back at you over his shoulder, a smaller set of leering silver eyes glowing in the darkness of the hood.

“Because I asked nicely?” you suggest awkwardly. He chuckles and turns around fully to face you, “You have done no such thing.” he reaches out to touch your arm. Searing pain explodes from the point of contact spreading across your whole body like wildfire. Scenes of Cosaint flash in your mind, replaying from your dream, they are too quick to make any sense. You jerk away with a pained cry and rub your arm, looking at it and expecting to see a large welt, but your skin is unblemished. The burning in the rest of your body subsides quickly, leaving you tingly all over. You lean on the wall for support as blood rushes from your head, and darkness clouds your vision.

  
_‘I hadn't quite expected such a dramatic reaction from one simple spell… he could be one of those Feirbluuds but I doubt it, they are familiar with magic from birth. My spell was sucked away though, and then he tried leaching on my magic, so I cut the spell and him off. Now he's unconscious on my wall and it will be dark soon… I should get him inside and looked at by Weynyr but I don't have his name so that the shield spell can recognise him and therefore allow him in. I'll search through his pockets to see if he has anything from which I can ascertain his identity. A little straw-stuffed burlap doll, some tasteless-looking provisions, a full waterskin quite small though, a stack of small letters? They have strange texts on them and feel unlike normal paper. How does one set of clothes have this many pockets, oh and he has bags too, great. Let's see what we have in here… clothes, a razor, a bound book? It has the same strange texts like the cards and the paper on the inside also feels different… there is an image on the front though, it is of a blue dragon's head. But those have been extinct since The Draconic Civil War eight hundred something years ago… a book couldn't have survived that long, could it? And surely not in such pristine condition. Could this man be one of those things that Mifforax warned of? A human from a different reality… that would explain the odd reaction to magic… I still don't know his name though. I could link him directly to the shield, as I am, but that may hurt him again.’'_

**_MORE TO BE ADDED_ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait everyone! Ugh, I've only got myself to blame... Nevertheless, enjoy it! Sorry about any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, I only have myself to check it over...

A moon winks at you through a canopy of pine needles above, full and eerily purple. You look around and see the silver clad man standing on the far side of a wooden platform. The purple moon gives his armour a serene look. The tips of other pine trees tell you just how high you are. Branches hold the platform in place, grown around its side and formed into a roof of pine needles. You are lying on a hay-stuffed bear’s hide, its fur shaggy and soft. Your folded clothes are stacked neatly at the foot of the bed. You look under the heavy wool blanket and see your undergarments. Breathing a sigh of relief you sit up and scratch your head, wooziness roiling up from your stomach to your head. 

“Where am I?” you ask.

“The tallest tree in the Coillársa , she graciously allowed me to place this platform up here as a lookout perch-” he swings himself off the edge of the platform disappearing from your sight.

“-I quite like being up this high… some others find it rather disconcerting though.” he says from above you, having dropped in from a portal that winks shut above him.

“What do you think of heights?” he asks, dropping to a crouch in front of you.

“I uh, don't remember.... I haven't been up high in a very long time…”

“Ahhh okay…” he smiles and stands up, twirling his hands until a cookie appears in his left and two more in his right.

“Would you like a cookie?” you raise your eyebrow at him, wondering how the cookies got there.

“I summoned them from the bakery in town, they are freshly baked...” he offers one towards you and grins.

“Uhm, no thanks…” 

“Your loss.” he bites into one, chucking the other two off the edge of the platform. A rush of chrome shoots up past the balcony. You hear the beating of heavy wings as they slice through the air. A silver lizard plops onto the platform, it's about the size of a komodo dragon but it has wings that are large, and resplendent. They have silver scales that lighten in shade as they reach the tips, almost white. The underside of the wings have a sky blue tint to them, but it shifts to a more pine green colour as the lizard sits. It has two cookies sticking out of its mouth, which it quickly chews and swallows. The underside of its neck tail, and belly are a smoky matte black. The rest of it is gleaming silver, with some white hair around its horns at the crown of its head, and at the tip of its tail. It's eyes are pure silver, though more iridescent than its skin. It stalks over to the man in the silver armour and strokes his legs with its body. 

“Good evening, Athūr, did you enjoy your flight?” it nuzzles his foot and then shrinks in size to scamper up his body and perch on his right shoulder, claws clinking against the armour. It stretches out its wings and it purrs loudly as it rubs its head against his neck.

“So, human. What is your name?” he strokes the lizard’s chin while looking at you.

“Uh… I uh, I don’t know…” Your mind seems hazy, unorganised. You try to think about a name someone called you but it keeps escaping your grasp.

“That’s odd. Most of everyone knows their own name. Even this dragon knows his name.”

“I can’t remember it. My mind is so foggy…” 

“Okay then, I’ll call you Aduain”

“I guess that’s pretty cool. Does it mean anything?”

“Nothing special.”

“Oh okay… well what’s your name?”

“Most people around here just call me Caomhnóir, or just Caom, but my real name is Iontach.” he smiles and nods taking a bite out of a cookie.

“So now that I know your name, Aduain, I have a bigger question for you,” he pauses, looking you over, “Why do you react so strangely to magic?”

“I don’t, I rather like watching magicians perform magic tricks.” he perks an eyebrow at you, the dragon on his shoulder mimicking the look.

“Tricks? Magic isn’t trickery… well some can be but magic is not just tricks.”

“What do you mean not just tricks? That’s all magic is, isn’t it? I thought voodoo magic was just made up stuff.” Caomhnóir frowns and then bursts into laughter.

“Voodoo? Is that all you know of magic? Ahahahaha!” Iontach calms down and adopts a more serious face, 

“Magic is the very force that holds the world together. It is what keeps leaves green, it is what makes rivers flow, it is what changes the weather, it is what controls the seasons, it is what allows you to breath, it is everything.” he gestures out to the night sky and millions of beautiful streams of light arc from his hand out into the darkness, gyrating and twirling, changing colours and brightness. They peter out after a few short seconds of brilliance.

“Wow, was that… was that magic?!” you asked, your mouth still hanging low.

“Yes. It was a manifestation of magic. Magic itself is invisible but we call upon its power to use spells and other things. The stuff you see is merely one perspective on magic. Some people will never use magic in their lives, others may only call upon it unconsciously, like a mother lifting a carriage to save her baby. Ones like me are rare, we can use magic all the time and as long as we have the strength. They call us Gifted, Touched or just Magi, but we serve only the world, and Mifforax.”

“Who’s Mifforax?”

“She is the Mother, the Queen Dragon, and the holder of magic. She alone decides who can access magic. This dragon is her firstborn son and I am her adopted son.”

“So you are brothers?” All this new stuff about magic and dragons is blowing your mind, but here is this guy… a master magician and son of the queen dragon, with a dragon brother.

“Yes, in all ways except species. Well, Athrú has a humanoid form, though he doesn't like it.” 

“Oh… okay. Question, are we in Cosaint right now?” you stand up, looking out the open side of the lookout, but seeing no town in the pristine wilderness.

“No, It is below.” he says, pointing through the wall of clustered branches.  
“Just how high up are we?” you step closer to the edge of the platform, the ground lies far below, smaller trees reaching up for you. You go to step back to the bed but your foot slips. The ground zooms up to catch you and your vision goes dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's coming straight after the other one because I had already written it... I can't make any promises on the when the next one will be uploaded, but I shall begin writing it today.  
> Again, any and all errors are mine, and I do apologise.

You hear low talking from across the room, only picking up every few words, 

“Humans… troubling and fragile… Mifforax… saved?”

“Okay. He's awake now.” Caomhnóir comes over with a woman shaped plant… or a plant shaped woman? She has pine needles as hair, tied into neat braids. Her face is pine, glowing white pupils and a fleshy slice as a nose. Her clothes are long robes of leaves, weaved together with twine. Athūr was perched on Caomhnóir’s shoulder, licking his claws with a tongue of liquid silver.

“Are you sore anywhere?” the plant lady asks bluntly, rummaging in a nearby draw. The lofted ceiling frowns at you as pain comes rushing in, now that you think about it. Your head is assaulted with dull throbs, as if a giant is squeezing you between his thumbs. Every nerve is supercharged, and even moving your hand sends a tirade of pain signals to your brain.

“I, saved you as quickly as I could. There was no time to devise a painless spell for you so I grabbed you with raw magic. The way your body reacts to magic is so fascinating! It is as if you are made up entirely of anti-magic particles.”

The plant lady puts a herb in your mouth that turns your tongue heavy and numb, 

“Don't chew. Swallow your spit, it will help in reducing the pain. My name is Ishara, I'm the healer of this town, well the herbalist… I heal them when magic can't. Which is magic itself I guess…” she nods as she talks, her woody face sliding and moving together as a normal face would. She touches your bare chest, feeling for something but she could've been doing anything else, because you couldn't feel it. 

“Caom you can take him to your house now, I've got an appointment with one of Juli's pets again, the poor thing drank the wrong water.”

Caomhnóir picks you up in his arms silently and carries you out into the street. Athūr hops off his shoulder and shifts to the size of a large boar. Caomhnóir places you in the nook of his back, the dragon uses his wings to keep you in place. The sky is ablaze in pinks, reds and oranges, a few puffy wisps of clouds drift overhead while the sun is just about to touch the horizon. The tops of buildings cradle the sky, buildings of all different shapes and styles. The cool evening air refreshes you as it flows through you, tasting so pure. Two gigantic wolves trod past, pulling a carriage behind them.

“Why is the carriage so quiet?” you ask Caomhnóir .

“This road has grass instead of pavement. It keeps the sound down and is much more comfortable. You don't even need to wear shoes to walk around in this town.”

Athūr turns left and up some steps, pausing at the top.

“Thanks for letting me ride on your dragon.” you say as Caomhnóir opens a door and steps in opening all the curtains and windows with a flick of his wrist.

“Don't thank me, thank Athūr, he carried you.” He picks you up and carries you inside, laying you on a lavish chaise lounge. The setting sun casts an orange glow through the western window, warming your face.

“What kind of food do you like?” Caomhnóir asks as Athūr crawls onto you the size of a cat and curls up on your lap.

“I'm fine with anything, as long as it's not spicy.” he nods and disappears through an archway. The little dragon nuzzles his chin against your lower belly as he gets comfortable, his hot breath filters through your cloth undershirt and rolls up your chest. The tip of his tail is tucked under your belt, the topsides of his fore-paws against your crotch. His hindlegs somewhere between your upper thighs. His wings are pulled around him, creating his own private sleeping bag. He rests his chin right next to his tail, winks at you and then closes his eyes.

“Your meal is ready. Would you like me to bring it out to you?”

“It smells amazing! What is it?”

“Herb infused buns with Cauliflower soup to dip, the herbs were specially selected to help with your condition.” Caomhnóir comes in with a tray that has five steaming buns and a bowl of soup.

“Thanks!” you say as he places the tray atop a small table next to the lounge.

“I see that Athūr has taken a liking to you.” 

“He's so hot though, I'll start burning soon!” 

“Mmh Dragons have very high body temperatures. Did you know that Ice dragons have the highest body temperatures?”

“Are you feeling better now?” Caomhnóir asks as you finish the soup.

“Yeah I am, thank you very much.”

“Would you like to move to a bed so you can sleep?” he asks as a large yawn takes hold of your face.

“Is there anyway I could have a bath or something to clean myself?” he nods and moves his hand in a graceful gesture, as he does a cool breeze races over your skin and across your body, leaving you feeling fresher than a dip in a waterfall pool. Athūr leaps up as the spell rushes under his body and flaps over to the armoured man, glaring at you as he perches on his shoulder. A ball of sludge about the size of a human’s head is hovering between Caomhnóir’s hands, he is inspecting it thoroughly as it swirls around.

“How do you let yourself become so filthy? I don't think I've ever pulled this much with the bathing spell…” he flicks his hands and the ball disappears, “Ugh. Anyway, let's get you to bed, hm?” You go to stand up but he stops you and picks you up again, going up the wooden stairs carefully. A door opens into a cozy room with a small smokeless fire burning on the opposite wall to the bed. He lays you on the duck down mattress and opens the blankets for you.

“Will that be all? If you need anything just call out, I'll come instantly.” The fire flickers softly as he closes the door and his footsteps trail off down the stairs.


End file.
